Antisocial Media

Comatose was here to settle the dispute.

Not our way, the madness wouldn’t do.

“Supine-wrestle with your deepest self;

understand and know that

you can never win. Only believe.”

That feeling in your deepest gut

that lets you know

you’re still breathing,

how deceiving it can be.

“Oh, sweetie, you’re exhausted!

Lie down, come and rest for a little while.

I’ll make sure the gunshots won’t be heard (by you).

I’ll make sure the bleeding won’t be seen (by them).

I’ll make sure the stench of decay

will be covered by the aromas

of ig baddies, and

I’ll make sure you think you’re safe...

Would you like a like?”

The fatigue just won’t let up today;

deeper burying the disgust of self-loathing

only puts it higher up the status quo.

Let me see!

“Pristine boys and girls, line up!

We mustn’t dilly dally today,

it’s a special occasion!

Put on your happy face for the Plastic Man!

He’s almost here!”

Remind me again, what was your name?

Oh.

We’ve met before?

Oh.

I can’t seem to shake the feeling…

Oh well.